Can This Be Beautiful Too?
by Nada Citizen
Summary: Kurt/Ram. After surviving J.D. and Veronica's attack in the woods, but retaining no memory of it, Kurt starts to realize how fleeting life really is. He tries to convince Ram of the same, and to maybe make some more regrettable decisions while they're still alive.


Sure, the day had been normal on the surface. Assuming you're willing to disregard the literal, near-death experience the night before, like most of the school had been.

Unfortunately, it'd been eating at Kurt Kelly since dawn, leaving several thoughts on his mind that he'd really rather not have. What if he and Ram really had died, huh? What would they have left this world with?

He tried to leave it alone, tried to distract himself by shooting the shit with his buddies, by teasing girls in the hall, by taking on a few extra reps in the weight room - but all to no avail.

So, a few hours after the final bell, he decides to pay Ram a visit.

His door's unlocked, as usual. Kurt strolls casually through Ram's house, giving a brief wave to his parents in the living room, as usual, but wastes little time getting upstairs to his bedroom.

As usual, Ram's in there. But not as usual, he's occupied - with two hands nonetheless. His left grips a top-of-the-line flip phone, while his right holds a dull pencil, scribbling something in a notebook with barely legible handwriting. He notices his friend enter, giving him a quick nod but holding up his finger at him as though to tell him to wait a moment.

Kurt tries, he really does, shutting the door behind him before kicking off his shoes and sitting on the bed, waiting for Ram to hurry up and finish. But whoever's on the other side is loud enough for Kurt to listen in, and…

…

Oh. It's a familiar voice, but not one he'd have wanted to hear. Especially right now, of all times.

Martha. The dumptruck. God damn, he does not have time for this. Even though it sounds like all she's doing is feeding Ram answers to Ms. Fleming homework, Kurt's far less willing to wait for them to finish.

Gritting his teeth, Kurt doesn't think for even a half-second before straddling his unsuspecting friend's lap, causing Ram to drop his flip-phone shut and disregard whatever information Martha may have been giving him.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

"Okay, so I've been thinki-"

"Bullshiiit," Ram retorts back before he can even finish, leaning back as he pushes a hand against Kurt's chest. Kurt backs up an inch or two, opening his mouth to finish his sentence before Ram beats him to it: "...You mean drinking? They sound the same, I fuck them up too sometimes, dude."

He'd give a half-laugh at the joke, had he not been trying to talk. Despite Ram clearly trying to keep the conversation light-hearted, Kurt pushes Ram back a bit, frowning.

Martha was still on the other line. "Ram? Ram, is everything okay? Did you- did you get 'myriad' down? Next was 'labyrinth', but if you ne-"

Kurt snaps the flip phone shut, ending the call.

"No, I meant 'thinking'. I'm serious, dude, we could've, like, died last night… Heather Chandler's already dead, and I'm pretty sure we only got lucky."

Ram frowns back. "But she, uh… she killed herself. Veronica, uh, told us it was some psycho with a gun, running around in the woods that got us. Totally different, dude."

Kurt clutches the other's shirt, leaving little room between their faces. "Doesn't change that we were this close to losing our lives, and the last thing we would've done was fuck another skank."

Ram blinks, but Kurt doesn't miss a beat: "Stay with me now: we woke up with gunshots. Look, you've even got yours right there."

He tugs his friend's shirt collar aside just a bit to reveal the semi-fresh wound. Which... could really use a bandage or something at this point. Kurt's brows furrow just looking at it, and he can feel himself getting pissed.

But he needs to stay on topic.

"What if we'd died, huh? Would that've been the last thing you'd wanna remember doing?"

Ram winces, registering the lack of space between them. "...I don't- You're- you're being weird, Kurt. What are you, fuckin' gay?"

Plainly as he can, he shrugs. No, no of course he wasn't. Not for most guys anyway. Was he out of his mind for bringing this all up? He didn't think so, but the fear and confusion in Ram's eyes reminded him to take it slower. He releases his friend's shirt, dropping his hands by his sides but not budging from his lap.

"I don't think so. I just- fuck, stop judging me- I just want to know what I'd've missed. There's a lot of things I haven't done yet."

Given that it wasn't a direct "yes" or "no" answer, it takes Ram a few seconds to process the response. Leaning backward, he then keeps his eyes suspiciously on Kurt, patting at his dresser for one of the half-empty cans of beer. Quickly, he finishes off two of them, lukewarm as they may have been. Kurt considers asking for one himself (hell, he was probably too sober for this himself), but Ram probably still backwashes. And who knows how long those drinks have been sitting out.

...Maybe later. For now, Ram speaks up, grabbing the other jock's attention again.

"So you're saying is… if we DID die… you would've wanted to know what it'd be like to fuck a guy."

"Well when you put it like that you can make anything sound shitty, you dickhead." Kurt squints, but continues.

"No, not just any guy. I'm not some... fag or something." The word gets trapped in his throat. He's not sure if he can believe himself, saying this while sitting square in Ram's lap.

" But you. Like, you're my best friend. Come on, you've never thought about it? Ever? Not after all those times in the locker room, or by the swimming pool, or those summer fishing trips? Just to see what it's like."

Ram shuffles a bit, turning his attention to the ceiling. He murmurs something that Kurt doesn't catch.

Kurt waits for him to repeat whatever it was, leaning in. No luck.

"What was that?"

Ram purses his lips together, loudly sighing through them. "Maybe. I dunno. It's 1989, man… It's just not something you talk about, I guess. This isn't, like, those toga-wearing guys from however many hundreds of years ago or whatever. We don't really do that."

Reaching his hands around the small of Kurt's back, Ram pulls him back into a comfortable position into his lap. "But now that you bring it up, I mean…"

The air around them is tense, still, but Kurt at least tries to break it. "Not that that's, uh, the ONLY thing I'd have wanted to do before I died. I'm just saying, like-"

For once, Ram interrupts. "No, no, I get it... What else did you, uh, want to do before you die?"

After he's pulled in, Kurt reaches around for the notebook on the side of Ram's mattress, flipping through some half-finished assignments before idly shuffling himself back and forth in his lap. He looks but doesn't read any of it, of course, then answers the question. Sort of. "None of this vocabulary shit, that's for sure. What, did coach say he have to talk to you in the morning? You never do your own homework.

"...Huh? Oh, yeah," Ram asks, failing to notice the slowly rising outline against his own thigh. "Knew I wouldn't have time in the morning, and Ms. Fleming said I was, uh, this close to getting suspended from the team for the next two weeks, so - wait, are we just supposed to whip it out, or what?"

The question gives Kurt a mild case of deja vu, but he shakes his head, hooking his hands behind Ram's head and causing them both to lean against the bed's headboard. He slowly grinds into him, knees set on either side of Ram's thighs. "What, are you gay now?"

Flustered, Ram shakes his head, unbuckling his jeans. "I'm just asking, I don't know how the hell this is suppose to work. Thought you were supposed to be the smartest guy on the football team."

"That ain't saying much, is it? Look, let's uh..." Kurt just sets the notebook pages aside, helping Ram get his pants off. "It's not gay we don't actually see each other's Johnsons, right? Let's try this."

Kurt's jeans follow suit, joining Ram's discarded pants on the floor. Though both boys feel unfamiliar, they try Kurt's suggestion. Holding him steady by the hips, Ram bounces Kurt in place, while Kurt himself leans in. He starts brushing his lips against his jaw, his mouth. They're all too similar to his own, so he figured it'd at least feel familiar - but it was possibly the most alien thing he'd ever experienced.

Not in a bad way, mind you. But once Kurt allows his hands to wander, his leftie ends up on Ram's cock, giving it short, firm strokes through the boxer shorts' material.

Surges of arousal rush down Ram's spine, and suddenly he's hyper aware of his friend's every movement as his shaft begins to throb in Kurt's grip. A faint blush spans across his face. He silently debates whether or not to encourage Kurt; on the one hand, he's having to bite his lip to keep quiet, but on the other, he can't just LET himself do that… right? It would involve him admitting Kurt could turn him on.

So he refrains. Instead, he chews his inner cheek instead while trying to ignore the pre-cum leaking from his cock and, inevitably, making a mess.  
Meanwhile, Kurt leans forward and grinds a little harder against Ram's crotch, soon becoming diamond-hard and flustered himself.

This isn't that deep, Kurt tells himself, but frankly he's just surprised to see Ram returning the favor at all.  
He places his hands on top of Ram's, sliding them backward so that they were set in Kurt's back pockets.

"You okay?"

Ram just leans back, tilting his head with parted lips. He's breaking a sweat, clearly trying to keep himself from cumming too soon. "Yeah, I'm... fine, Kurt. Tell me what else you wanted to do before you die, for real this time, since that's, uh... the whole reason you came here, I guess. And totally not 'cause you're gay as hell for me."

Thrown for a loop, Kurt opens his mouth to say something snarky back, but winds up blushing intensely before he can. Now that Ram's the one deliberately messing with him, hands on his hips as he bounces Kurt against his lap, he's not sure what to do with himself - besides feel Ram's dick against his ass through the stupidly thin boxer shorts, that is.

Squirming, Kurt considers clasping his hands over his own lap to conceal the cock pressing against his pants, embarrassed - but realizes that would just draw more attention to it than not.

"I, I- Okay. Before I die, I wanted to... Fly a plane. Maybe join the Air Force, and..."

"Nice," Ram shamelessly interjects, taking note of Kurt's shaft once he finally looks down - most notably how it's starting to push its own boxer briefs down by itself. Deep down, he can't help but feel conflicted at himself for staring, but it's impossible not to. Despite being behind a layer of clothing, Ram can tell his friend's cock is generous in its length. Not to mention thick and frustrated, much like the boy in his lap.  
Kurt pants softly, not so subtly grinding his dick against the other jock and wanting to let his hands roam. So he spends a few moments at the back of Ram's head, gripping his short hair, then sliding his hands down his broad shoulders, then down to the other's waistband again, itching to get closer.

Ram's eyes grow heavy, pink blush burning beneath the skin as he feels the precum flow freely from his tip. Had you asked him this morning, he'd have called you crazy for thinking he'd be here tonight, handling Kurt like putty.

Yet here he is. Or at least, here he thinks he is with any sort of upper-hand on him. The lines rapidly become blurred with the other jock straddling Ram's boxer-clad dick, greedily grinding and rubbing against it to the point that Ram struggles to keep up.

"Ah- ah- ah- anh- fuck..." Kurt sighs, turned on by feeling the reciprocation, feeling the other jock's cock grow and press underneath him. As many times as he'd fooled around with miscellaneous girls around the school, the sheer taboo that came with trying something even remotely similar with his best friend was pushing him to the verge of climax.

Or it would have, had Ram not beat him to it. Filling the room with a sharp gasp and overflowing his boxers with cum, Kurt has to cover Ram's mouth with his hand to get him to be quiet - the last thing they need is somebody walking in on them. Either way, Kurt's heart is pounding: Oh, God. Oh, God oh God oh God oh God.

Instantly, Ram flops backwards into the pillows and disarrayed blankets, Kurt crashing with him.  
Though he should have every reason to be surprised, Kurt finds himself relatively calm. Or at the very least, not ready to throw himself out the window. His former, cheeky smirk has been replaced with parted lips and widened eyes, not sure what to do with himself.

He burrows his head into Ram's chest, clutching his shirt and sighing deeply. Kurt didn't climax along with him (as a matter of fact, his own cock is painfully hard against his boxer briefs, begging for just a few seconds more), but with the gallon or so of precum flowing from his tip, he had other things to worry about - like how the hell to clean this mess up before anyone walks in.  
Kurt slowly starts to get up, not wanting to get either of themselves messier than they already were, but Ram grabs his half-chub through the soaked shorts, gently pulling him back down.

"You didn't, uh… cum yet, huh?" Ram asks, slightly dazed, but already pulling off the last of his underwear to see his friend's hard-on flop out.  
Kurt's clearly taken aback, having already mentally prepared himself to finish beating himself off in the bathroom. Only able to blink with a dumbstruck expression, he's tries to find the words to say before he finds Ram's hands firmly on his ass, pulling the jock verrrrrry close - close enough that he can feel his breath against his cock. It's more than enough to bring Kurt back to full mast, but he tries to insist otherwise. "N- no, I, uh-"

"Dude, it's okay, you can let me, and...uh, we've got to clean this up before someone sees. It won't go anywhere if you keep leaking out, though, so hold still," Ram says, and Kurt can only look down with mild confusion before seeing Ram's lips draw close to his tip. Ram catches the expression, and quickly tacks on: "Don't look at me like that. It's not, uh, it's not gay if I don't swallow."

...


End file.
